


It's Always For You

by S_Horne



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Divorce, Future Fic, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Miscommunication, talk of divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: There in the drawer lay an envelope which suddenly caught Stiles' attention with its capitalized text. As he brought it closer for a better look his brain shut down for a second. That was his name. His name and his husband's... Reading the top form with utter disbelief, Stiles pulled out the other pieces of paper with shaking hands and a heart that threatened to beat straight out of his chest./“I won’t sign. I promise you right now, I’m not going to sign them.” When he got no reply but a shake of the head, his voice broke with his heart. “Please, don’t do this.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> (As always, any comments and/or tips on my writing will be greatly appreciated)
> 
> \- S

Stiles couldn’t find his passport… what a surprise. He’d had it when he’d come back from his last business trip and he could have sworn that he’d put it back in his desk in his and Derek’s shared study, where it  _always_  went. He needed to book his next flight; granted, his trip wasn’t for a couple of months and he didn’t actually need to enter all the details right now, but if he didn’t do it sooner rather than later he’d forget to do it and miss all of the good deals.

A thought jumped into Stiles’ mind that his passport would be in Derek’s desk. Stiles had a very bad habit of leaving things lying around the house to the annoyance of his much neater husband. Derek had probably seen it somewhere it wasn’t meant to be and tidied it away. The young man walked around his desk and headed across the room to his husband’s large oak one and sat down behind it, very impressed with just how  _neat_ the other man was. He started looking for his passport, shifting though piles of papers and lifting up objects – taking a second to coo over their framed wedding photo standing in pride of place. Not finding his ID on the top of the desk Stiles started going through the drawers underneath. He pulled open the first one but, not seeing his passport amongst the papers and files, he carried on down. The second drawer was just more documents, copies of insurance policies, and their marriage licence. No passport though, Stiles noticed as he pulled out the neat folders so he replaced them and made to shut the drawer.

Out of the corner of his eye Stiles suddenly spotted something and yanked the drawer open further, reaching in his hand to pull out an envelope hidden at the very bottom. There was a piece of paper poking out of the top of the folder which had caught Stiles’ attention with its capitalized text and, as he brought it closer for a better look, his heart nearly stopped. That was _his_ name. His name and his _husband’s_ … Reading the top form with utter disbelief, he pulled out the other pieces of paper with shaking hands and a heart that threatened to beat straight out of his chest.

/

“What the hell are these?”

Derek jumped a mile in the air behind his newspaper as Stiles entered the kitchen and threw a light brown envelope onto the dining table in front of him. He calmly folded the paper and placed it to one side as he looked up at his seething husband.

“Hey!” Stiles fumed as Derek didn’t move any further and instead picked the envelope up himself. “What? Are? These?” He punctuated each word with the opening of the folder followed by a piece of paper being thrown across the table at his husband.

Derek carefully lent forward to pick one of the sheets up, paling when he realised what he was reading and therefore what Stiles had found. The younger man noticed his husband’s silence which only sparked his anger more.

“Divorce papers?” Stiles voice shook with anger, questions flying out in disbelief. “You didn’t even talk to me about it? …Seriously? **Divorce papers!** ”

“Stiles –,” Derek started, his voice harsh, but the mentioned man barrelled ahead, panic and hurt pushing his own voice over his husband’s.

“What did I do? I thought we were good! I, I thought we were  _better_ than good.” Stiles had honestly thought that they were; there was no hint that this was going to have happened. They still woke up next to each other every morning, texted each other on their lunch breaks, had a standing date once a week – usually ending in the use of their ‘secret bedroom box’ – and fell asleep wrapped around each other every night. They had been married for nearly five years, their anniversary coming up three weeks before Stiles’ 29th birthday. When he spoke again his voice was thick with tears. “What did I –” he cleared his throat and asked again. “What have I done?” He dropped into the chair opposite his husband – if he could still call him that, he supposed.

Derek’s face crumpled, pain etched into every feature as he reached a hand out across the table. “ **No.** No, it’s not….”

“Why?” Stiles asked desperately,  _pitifully,_ pulling his hand back before Derek’s could touch him.

“Because…”

"Is it because I leave my clothes on the bathroom floor?" Stiles asked. "Or because I have to sleep with the light on? Or because I'm always late - I know you changed my watch but it doesn't work, never has. I -"

"No, idiot," Derek's reassurance came quickly, desperate to stop the younger man from berating himself so much. "It's none of that, of course it isn't."

"Then it's because of what I said last month," Stiles decided with a nod. "You know I was only joking when I said that Lydi-"

"Stiles! Stop! It has nothing to do with what you said or where you leave your clothes. It's, well. It's..."

“It's what?" When there was no reply after his voice trailed off, Stiles lost any patience with the man he loved. “Dammit, Derek." He growled. "Give me an answer, you fucking **coward**.”

"It's because I love you!”

Stiles closed his mouth, his next argument stopping short at his husband’s loud and sudden response. “Yeah. Yeah, right… cause that makes sense,” he said after a pause, his anger returning at full force in his confusion. "You obviously don't, do you? I know because _I_  love  _you._ I love your stupid singing in the bathroom, your stupid sense of humor, even your stupid,  _stupid_ belief that un-frosted cakes are better than frosted ones. Shit, no; trying to talk you out of divorcing me - they're not stupid!" There was a pause before; "actually, you know what? They  _are_ stupid. I don't agree with them but that's how I know that I love you - I can, and do, live with that; I don't have divorce papers hidden in my desk!" Stiles' voice grew stronger and stronger until he was shouting louder than he could remember ever shouting at his husband before. 

“For God’s sake, Stiles, you’re 28!” Derek's exclamation was somehow even more thunderous than the other's as he jumped out of his chair and paced the kitchen, stopping here and there and running his hands through his hair.

Stiles startled at the movement and stared up at his lover in complete bewilderment at the seemingly random topic change. “29 in a month, but yeah, I’m aware. Your point?”

There was a pause as Derek turned to face the younger man, his eyes boring into Stiles'. “I’m 44.”

“Not for another five months, you’re not.” _God_ , he was still so confused, the emotion written plainly all over his face.

“Stiles,” Derek snarled.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at!” Stiles replied honestly, his hands raised in innocence and his eyes wide. “All I know is that you’ve got divorce papers hidden away in your desk and you won’t even give me a reason for it.” This time it was Stiles who stood up with an angry huff. He turned his back on the elder as Derek seemed to let the fight fall out of him, dropping back into his seat at the table and gripping the edges of the dark wood so hard that his knuckles turned a ghostly white.

“You deserve a life.” Derek’s voice was quiet as his eyes stayed glued to the table, tracing intensely over the dents and scratches from years of use.

Stiles didn’t speak, his back still turned to the other as he desperately willed the tears in his eyes not to fall, refusing to believe this was actually happening. Of course it was a Monday; _fuck_ Mondays.

“I’m an old man.” Derek spoke again, his voice even quieter this time.

At that statement Stiles span around, his anger returning for a whole other reason. “You’re not old! You have less than a handful of gray hairs, you haven’t even got one single wrinkle on your stupid face and you run circles around every one of our friends – even those twenty years younger than you.”

“ _Twenty years_  younger!”

The emphasis in Derek’s voice stopped Stiles short. “What? Is that what this is about?!” So help him God, if this was what this whole stupid argument was about… “None of us have ever noticed the age difference! I don’t care and you _know_ I don’t! It’s really not that big of a deal, not to _any_ one. I don’t know why –,”

Derek still wasn’t convinced and cut across Stiles’ sentence in a determined tone, his eyes staring at a fixed point to the left of Stiles' head. “You need to find someone your own age; someone who will age _with_ you, not before you. Someone who can remember TV shows from _your_ era, not your father’s. Someone who can afford to wait a few more years before having children.”

“Derek! You are not old!” Stiles was getting desperate in his bid to make his husband hear him. He darted over to the table and leant forward on his palms to try and meet Derek's gaze. “Where the hell is this suddenly coming from?” His hands flew up to swipe angrily at his face, his cheeks flushed and tears burning his eyes. “You’re not closer to my dad’s age than you are mine and we have plenty of time for children. We don’t even  _have_  to wait anymore if you don’t want to – we’re stable enough in terms of our house, our jobs, our relationsh –” he trailed off as he caught sight of the papers on the table between them. Sitting. Mocking. “Well, I thought we were.”

Derek still didn’t look convinced, inching forwards tentatively and reaching out his fingers to stroke with reverence over his and Stiles’ names on the forms. Stiles exploded at the gentle movements, kicking one of the kitchen chairs away in a burst of anger. It hit against the cupboard behind him with a huge bang, startling Derek who shot back away from the papers as if just realising what he had been doing.

“Why did you even marry me in the first place?” Stiles asked desperately, his voice harsh and his gaze burning a hole in the picture above the stove. Stupid fucking beach. Stupid fucking honeymoon. “I mean, if you knew you were just going to kick me out in a few years anyway, why did you even bother?”

“Because I’m selfish,” Derek confessed, his emotions finally seeping through. He leant forward earnestly as his eyes pleaded with his husband. “I had to have you, even if it would only be for a year or two. I _needed_ you; I needed to pretend that I could keep you… But it’s time for me to let you live your life.”

“I don’t have a life without you.” Stiles’ confession was quiet but spoken with absolute conviction. Derek crumbled, the tension of the argument finally breaking over him and wracking his whole body with a violent shiver. He sighed heavily as he fell forward with sunken shoulders, his elbows coming to rest on his knees and his head buried in his hands. Stiles hovered, wanting nothing more than to wrap his whole body around the other man – two hours ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to do so for a second, but now? Now he didn’t know what to do. He could only beg.

“Don’t do this…,” The plea was barely more than a whisper but the words were heavily weighted. “Derek...,”

“Stop it, Stiles.”

“I won’t sign. I promise you right now, I’m not going to sign them.” When he got no reply but a shake of the head, his voice broke with his heart. “Please, don’t do this.”

“It’s for you.” Derek spoke just as quietly as his husband, lifting his head from his arms with dark, tear-filled eyes. “Just like everything else… it’s always for you.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Separated the last chapter into 2 because it got kinda long and difficult to edit quickly.
> 
> Pretty sure I've messed up tenses and POVs so let me know if it was tricky to read or where to make changes :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

_ “I won’t sign. I promise you right now, I’m not going to sign them.” When he got no reply but a shake of the head, his voice broke with his heart. “Please, don’t do this.” _

_ “It’s for you.” Derek spoke just as quietly as his husband, lifting his head from his arms with dark, tear-filled eyes. “Just like everything else… it’s always for you.” _

*

Stiles left the kitchen before he screamed, before he grabbed the other man and shook him until Derek actually admitted what was bothering him and offered a solution.

‘For Stiles’ had been Derek’s excuse. _Bullshit,_ Stiles thought vehemently. There was no way on this earth that a divorce would have been the decision to benefit Stiles the most. Seeing those papers, _god_ , it had felt like somebody had pulled out his heart; the pain was overwhelming and had nearly brought him to his knees. Confronting Derek had been one of the most nerve-wracking things that he had ever had to do. The older man had the power to smash Stiles’ whole life into thousands of tiny pieces if he so desired. Stiles knew – and had known from their first date – that Derek hated the difference between their ages and he had struggled a lot with the gap being as large as it was, his insecurities always lingering in the background of their relationship. He’d just never known that it would get this bad; to be honest neither of them should have let it get this bad.

Pulling on his jacket and grabbing his keys Stiles made his way back into the kitchen. Derek had barely moved, the only difference in his posture being his clenched fists on the table and his shoulders so rigid they almost looked like a sharp tap would shatter them. His pain was nearly thick enough to taste in the air. Stiles stood in the doorway and watched his partner for a moment.

“I’m going to get coffee,” Derek’s body only tensed more before Stiles continued. “I _am_ coming back and we _are_ going to talk about this.” Derek’s fists slowly unclenched at the younger man’s promise to return but his arms were still tense, his veins prominent. At the kiss that was dropped on his temple, Derek’s shoulders relaxed even more.

*

The kitchen was empty when Stiles returned, two cooling coffees in his hands. He had used the coffee excuse as a way to get out of the house but he could actually use the caffeine; his emotions had been on a rollercoaster in the last hour or so. There was a moment of panic when he couldn’t see his husband before he remembered the heartbroken look on Derek’s face when he had been confronted earlier. There was no way Derek would leave, not like this.

Setting the coffee down on the table, – he’d sat in the car for so long trying to calm himself down that they were practically frozen now anyway - he walked into the living room where he saw Derek kneeling in front of the fire place. That in itself was a shock due to Derek’s near-paralysing fear of fire. It was something which stemmed from when he was in high school when an electrical fault in his childhood home had caused a fire. Luckily it had been stopped quickly and only his parents had been home with plenty of time to get themselves out and to a safe distance. When Derek and Stiles had looked around the house that they eventually bought, Derek had frozen in place in the doorway to the living room at the sight of the fire place. They had both loved the house from the moment they had seen it but had had several lengthy discussions about whether or not to buy the house with the fireplace and then, after they had bought it, if they should have it blocked up or leave it open. It was Derek’s decision in the end to keep the fireplace open, although it had never been used in the seven years that the house had been theirs.

That’s partly why it was such a surprise for Stiles to come home to find a fire lit and dancing in the hearth, never mind the sight of Derek sitting so close to it. Making his way over to the other man, Stiles saw that the divorce papers were now strewn across the floor, most of the sheets ripped into two or three pieces.  

“What are you doing?” Stiles spoke softly, crouching down onto the floor but still keeping his distance in case he wasn’t welcome.

Derek didn’t look away from the flames as he answered. “It’s time to let go.” Images of his burning house were dancing around in his head, the pictures of his nightmares bright and clear in the afternoon. What if his parents had been asleep when the fire had begun? What if they hadn’t managed to get out, or what if his whole family had been at home? What if _Stiles_ had –?

“Let what go?” Stiles asked warily. His voice cut through Derek’s living nightmare and jolted the other man back into the room. _Please don’t be me,_ the younger thought desperately, _please don’t let me go._

“This fear,” came Derek’s simple response. He lifted one of the ripped pieces of paper with a shaking hand and held it forward, watching the flames dart forward to lick up it. “And what better way to do it than with this?” His voice was calm although his hand shook violently as the heat coiled around his skin. His fingers didn’t, or couldn’t, release their grip on the page. Stiles lifted his own hand slowly, keeping it in Derek’s unfocused line of sight, and moved it to curl around his husband’s and coax it back from the fire. At the familiar and so-desired touch Derek’s tremors reduced and he finally let go of the blackened paper, watching it sway on its descent into the heat as he let his hand be pulled gently away.

“Why are you doing this now?” Stiles questioned, letting go of Derek’s hand again and pulling his own back to rest in a tight fist on his lap.

“I should have done this in the first place,” Derek’s reply was firm as he picked up another page.

“You shouldn’t have _had_ them in the first place,” Stiles muttered, ignoring Derek’s violent flinch at the venom in his voice. Instead of a verbal response the elder man held up another piece of paper to burn, then another and another. The two men sat quietly side by side, watching as the crisp official papers were first charred, the writing becoming illegible, and then finally reduced to nothing more than cinders. The tendrils danced with each new addition, the light dancing in the unsure eyes of the watchers. Soon the last piece of the application was placed into the fire and both men breathed a sigh of relief. They were gone, finally fucking gone.

Tentatively Stiles reached out a hand, stretching it across the gap between him and his partner. This time Derek turned his hand over to intertwine his fingers with his young husband’s, his grip almost too tight but offering the comfort that both halves of the couple desperately needed.

“You can’t do that, Derek.” Stiles’ voice was quiet but serious as he stroked his thumb over the elder’s knuckles, moving to sit in a more comfortable position as he brought his other hand over to cup Derek’s even tighter. “I know you don’t like talking but –”

Derek shook his head as he interrupted his partner. “This wasn’t about me being quiet…”

“Yes, it was,” the younger insisted firmly. “It was about you thinking that you knew best –”

“I do!” Derek talked over the younger man again but not even Stiles’ indignant look could stop the elder this time. “I _do_ know better.”

“No, you do not.” Derek’s voice was loud and strong as he fought to get his point across but Stiles gave his best anyway. “I am a twenty-eight year old web designer with a college degree and a masters. I am perfectly capable of making up my own mind; I know what I want and I know what is best for me. You don’t get to decide that, asshole.”

Derek stared straight ahead into the still flickering flames as he squeezed the younger’s hands.

“Do you know how it felt to find those… papers?” Stiles asked, his voice oh so quiet as he spat out the last word as though it had personally offended him. Well, it kind of had.

“Probably felt the same as having to go and get them written up,” Derek muttered.

“Then why?” Stiles’ question was desperate and his hands spasmed in Derek’s grasp, almost as though he was about to pull away to jump up and cross the room. He took a moment to calm himself, as angry as he was he knew that holding Derek would make him more open to talking. “Tell me _why._ You can’t just file for a divorce if you don’t want one because you think that it’s something that I might want. You need to talk to me about these things because otherwise our relationship is just… well. We might as well sign them if that’s the situation.” Derek’s grip tightened on Stiles’ hands almost to the point of physical pain.

“See!” Stiles cried. The mixed signals that he was getting were leaving him at a complete loss as to what was happening inside Derek’s mind. “You can’t even think about it! How exactly were you actually going to sign and send them?” Stiles shook his head in exasperation as Derek hung his.

There was a long pause before Stiles huffed and made to stand up. As soon as he did so Derek startled and cleared his throat. Looking down at their entwined hands, the elder man finally spoke. “I got them made last week.”

Stiles stopped his movement and sat still, his attention now solely fixed on the hope of getting an explanation. Derek took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze still locked downwards. “It was the day after Dad rang me..."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles stopped his movement and sat still, his attention now solely fixed on the hope of getting an explanation. Derek took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze still locked downwards. “It was the day after Dad rang me..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it to explanation time! (please don't hate Derek too much). 
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and all the lovely comments and kudos!! Also please leave some writing tips where you see fit :) - I feel like it's a little rushed and there's mixed tenses and things.
> 
> Warnings at the bottom in case you need it? (They are concerning health problems and I don't know if I should tag it?)

_Stiles stopped his movement and sat still, his attention now solely fixed on the hope of getting an explanation. Derek took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze still locked downwards. “It was the day after Dad rang me..."_

*

A phone call from Derek’s father in itself wasn’t unusual as the Hales were a large and very close family with calls every few days and constant texts. But in an unfortunate twist of fate, Derek’s father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease a couple of years before and his memory was slowly deteriorating.

“We talked for a bit,” Derek explained, “just about our days and what he’d done in the garden but then –” Derek’s voice broke off and he took a deep breath before he carried on. Stiles’ heart sank; he had an inclining as to where Derek was going with this. Some days Joseph’s memory was fine, other days… “He asked for a lift down to the lake tomorrow but I said I had to work and he, uh, he thought I was his neighbour.” Derek scrubbed a hand across his forehead in frustration as his voice took on a hint of defeat. “I laughed it off, but then he couldn’t even remember my name. My _dad_ , Stiles. The man that taught me how to cook, how to carve wood, how to fish, the one who took me to baseball games before I could walk, who has kept every single card I’ve given him since I was born. My own dad forgot my name.” Suddenly, the whole ordeal made sense and Stiles couldn’t wrap his arms around the other man fast enough.

“Oh, fuck. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Stiles tugged his husband’s large body closer to him, both arms winding around his shoulders as he felt Derek’s shuddering breaths. Derek's arms lay still by his side, not returning the hug but not pulling away either. 

“He asked for Cora next,” Derek cut his explanation to clear his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he continued. “When I told him that she was still in Argentina he went silent. He tried to play it off that he knew after, but he didn’t. He couldn’t remember…”

“Hey, hey, come here.” Stiles clutched his husband even closer, one hand reaching up to card through Derek’s thick dark hair as he shushed his tears. They sat there for a long moment, Derek's hands slowly coming up to hold Stiles like he was something precious as the younger man whispered gentle words of comfort and tried to swallow the bitter feeling of helplessness.

“So,” Stiles broke the silence quietly, “this wasn’t about the age thing after all.”

The light-hearted comment had the desired effect; Derek let out a weak chuckle before he replied, “no. No, it wasn’t. It was about me, and not wanting to forget you.” Derek’s words had started strong but quickly became near-incomprehensible, spoken into Stiles’ neck as hot tears began to fall thick and fast. “I don’t want to forget you. If I follow my dad, and I end up...” A heart-breaking sob sounded from Derek’s throat as he clutched at Stiles’ back. “It’s killing me to watch my dad forget me, but I really can’t let you watch _me_ forget you.”

Stiles held Derek even tighter even as he muttered curses about his partner. “Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

Derek made a noise of indignation but Stiles ignored him, half-pulling the elder man onto his lap as he wiped Derek’s tears and dropped kisses anywhere he could reach. When Derek began to calm down Stiles pulled back slightly from their embrace to lift the other’s head from his shoulder.

“You listen to me, Hale, and you listen well,” Stiles looked straight at his husband – oh thank _god_ he could still say that – and didn’t look away. “I don’t care how old you are, I don’t care what happens in our lives; I am not leaving you.” Derek opened his mouth to protest but Stiles pulled his hands up to frame Derek’s face, his grip holding the elder man’s cheeks gently but firmly to make his point.

“I am _not_ leaving you and you can’t make me.” He took Derek’s hands again and brought them to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “I’m sorry that Dad’s having a bad week; I’ll talk to your mom in the morning and see if she wants me to ring Doctor Gomez to make an emergency appointment before his scheduled one for next month.” Derek nodded, slightly mollified, but Stiles continued, “and anyway, Mom hasn’t gone anywhere has she? She’s stayed with Joe, just like all of their friends have. Laura’s still around, and Cora is flying back next week for the party. We haven’t fled from your Dad just because of this problem and, if by some chance this bitch is hereditary, we’re not going to run from you either. Don’t push me away, babe; I’m not gonna go. My love doesn’t depend on you being the picture of good-health.”

“You say that now, but just wait until-” Derek counteracted, ready to launch into another argument but Stiles beat him to it.

“I will **always** say it.”

Derek’s eyes desperately searched the other man’s face through his bold statement, staring deep into his eyes. He saw only love, devotion and determination staring back at him. Finally seeing what he was so scared of not finding, the emotional wall around him broke down and Derek surged forward, connecting his lips to his husband’s. Derek wrapped his arms around the younger’s waist and this time it was Derek that half-lifted, half-yanked the other man until it was Stiles sitting in Derek’s lap, their lips still passionately locked together and their hands pulling the other impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispered against Stiles’ lips, “I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t thinking. I _couldn’t_ think; I’m such an idiot.”

“I wish I could get you to admit that when I’m not straddling you,” Stiles muttered with a roll of his eyes, but his grin and returned kisses gave away his true feelings.

“I love you, Stiles. I’m so sorry.” Derek’s fervent words were interspersed with presses of his lips on warm skin, hands inching up underneath Stiles’ shirt and his whole being revelling in the feeling of knowing that neither of them would ever be going anywhere. “Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, I meant… I wanted to save you, save you from... I just couldn’t –”

“I know,” Stiles placated soothingly. “I understand, it’s a horrible thing to watch." He bent down and kissed Derek again gently, his hands slowing their frantic movements to calm the two of them down from their panicked embrace. "We are gonna have to talk about this though; you have to know that a divorce wasn’t the solution, especially not when our relationship is as solid as it is. Fucking hell, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that, I didn’t know I _could_ feel like that. I’m not doing it again though, so when Cora gets here we’ll sit down with your mum and the girls, okay? We can’t just let this go unspoken about, it’s really going to need some serious discussion.”

Derek nodded with a sigh. “I know. I’m not making excuses, I just, – I guess I just didn’t know what to do. I knew Dad was getting bad but it just seemed to suddenly be that much worse in the, what? Two days since I’d last spoken to him? And then all I could think about was how much I couldn’t bear the thought of you watching me… It’s my dad, Stiles, my _dad_. I just freaked out and handled it badly, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Stiles lifted Derek’s chin again, offering a reassuring smile. “I know. It will be okay; we’ll always be okay,” he swore. Suddenly, his lips quirked up into a smirk. “Just don’t ever try and divorce me again, you fucker.”

“Never,” Derek promised earnestly, the light-hearted comment being taken deadly seriously. “Never, I promise, Stiles. I love you.”

Stiles let a kiss happen before making a hesitant proposal. “I almost don’t want to suggest this, but maybe we should look into therapy.” Derek’s head shot up in a panic, his eyes wide and his hands tightening their grip.

“For both of us,” Stiles was quick to clarify, “not marriage counselling and not _individual_ therapy, but just a way to talk about these fears and to find the best way to move forward with this risk hanging over our heads.”

Derek’s face relaxed a little bit and a hint of a smile appeared with Stiles’ next comment. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you go and talk to a scary lady on your own – I’ll be there to hold your hand.” The tone was light but the sentiment was true.

“I don’t deserve you,” Derek said, awe seeping into his voice.

“Nope, you definitely don’t.” Stiles couldn’t keep his face straight though, cracking into a smirk before he even finished his sentence. However, it quickly slid off his face as he continued, “Joking. If anything, I don’t deserve someone as selfless as you. It wasn’t the best way to go about it, but no one can admit that your core reason wasn’t sweet.”

“I’d do anything for you,” Derek said softly. “But next time I’ll wait to talk it out with a clearer head.”

“We’re ‘till the end of the line, you and I,” Stiles vowed, chuckling when Derek’s eye roll was betrayed by the relief written plainly across his face and the tightened grip around the younger’s waist. As the adrenaline fell away and exhaustion hit him suddenly from the emotional conversation, Derek swayed forward until he had buried his face in the curve of Stiles’ neck. Breathing deeply, he let his eyes slip closed.

“Till the end of the line,” Derek agreed. No, he _promised._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a character suffering from Alzheimer's Disease - but not Derek or Stiles.


End file.
